Tear Down a Soul
by UndoneChaos
Summary: Kyle has always been his brother's savior. He would sacrifice his life for Ike. Little brothers aren't supposed to protect big brothers. So what happens when they do?
1. Prologue: Kyle Knows His Duties

I was the big brother. He was the little brother. I was the protecter. He was the protected. I would give life and limb for him, mother said so.

I remember a time when I didn't like my little brother. A very short time, when I refused to be near him at all. Mother told me that day, something along the lines of, "Bubbelah, blood doesn't matter. Isaac is your brother in here", she pointed to her chest, "not in blood."

I remember making some smart-assed comment like, "He's my brother in your boob? Well then, mom, thanks for clearing that up." She slapped me under the chin at that, and sent me to my room.

Eventually, I came around. I realized that my mother was right. Ike was my brother, whether or not we had the same blood. So we were back as life was. I was again the older sibling, and he was again my younger sibling. Just as it should have been.

Years passed, and I never broke my promise. I was the guardian, Ike was the guarded. Any time he would run to me with a problem, I would be there to solve it. I would be there to comfort him, to cry with him, to _die_ for him.

He was Isaac Broflovski, I was Kyle Broflovski. His life came first, his protection a must. I was his superhero, I was his warrior. I was his big brother.

I took care of Ike, like it should be. And never once, not ever, would I let myself fall from that duty.

I was. And I would always be.

Wouldn't I?


	2. Chapter One: After Soccer Practice

I sat in the driver's seat of my car, tapping my thin fingers on the wheel. "God, Ike, how fucking long does soccer practice take?" I cursed out loud. I looked in my rearview mirror just in time to see my little brother come running up to my car, holding a soccer ball under his arm. He opened the shotgun door and slid in,giving me a big grin.

"What?" I asked, a humorless tone to my voice. He just kept on grinning at me.

"You could've watched, you know. I scored three goals!" he said happily, dropping the ball at his feet.

"Oh really now? From what I heard, you were benched the whole time", I teased. I ruffled my hand through his black hair, stopping to grimace. "Ew, sweat!" I wiped my hand on his jersey. "Nasty! OK, I believe you were playing now."

"Told'ja", he laughed, sticking his tongue out. "Can we go to–"

"Not Mickey D's again, Bubbeleh, their food is _bad_ for you", I sighed, returning my hands to the wheel. "You can have some Gefilte Fish when we get home."

"You sound like MOM! Ack! Get me out of here!" Ike made a grab for the door, faking escape. I just laughed.

"I will take control of the whole world! Bleh-bleh-bleh!" I said in my mother's heavy accent, adding stereotypical vampire sounds to the end. Ike giggled.

"You sound just like her. Scary", he said, shivering. "Can we at least go home then? I'm starving!"

"Children in Africa are starving. You", I poked his stomach, "are hungry."

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Ike snickered.

"Two hours of watching my 11-year-old brother flirt with Thomas the Train-boy. Jesus, I'd prefer _Georgie_ over that kid!" Everyone knew that Georgie Matthews, along with Dylan Grave, Henrietta Biggle, and Evan I-Can't-Remember-This-Kid's-Last-Name-Does-He-Even-Have-One were bad news. The Goth kids. It's not like they were murderers, drug abusers, rapists, or even vandalistic, because Jehovah knows that was too conformist. I guess they were just…

Anyway, it doesn't matter.

"I like Georgie! You know that!" Ike spat.

"Oh, yes I do. Oh, _yes I do_! God, I hate our paper-thin walls", I groaned. Ike just slumped in his seat, pink tinting his cheeks.

"It's not as bad as what comes from _your _side of the house." I paled.

"Let's just get home, shall we?" Dropping the discussion, I started my engine, and began to drive us home.


	3. Chapter Two: Brushing Kyle's Hair

"Ike. No. I don't know why you want to brush my hair, but it's not happening", I sighed, flopping down on my bed. Ike stood in front of me, one hand on his hip and the other swinging my hairbrush around wildly.

"But Kyle! I want to make you look nice!" he whined, pouting. God, my brother was a nuisance. I groaned, shifting to an upward position on my bed.

"I don't know. Having another boy brush my hair seems kind of… gay." Ike stomped his feet in a frustrated manner, glaring at me.

"Ky, please let me do it. Just this once, and I'll never ask again. Oh, and I won't bring up what I hear through our walls anymore." I growled at that last bit, locking my vibrant green eyes with Ike's blue ones.

"Fine. But just this once!" He ginned at that, bounding over to me.

"Sit up", he commanded, and I did so, leaning my top half frontward. He hopped on my bed and scooted behind me.

"How long will this take you?" I asked impatiently, leaning my face in my hand. He just laughed. Great.

"K, here I go! Wait, I'm going to sing while doing it."

"Oh, Jesus, Ike. Fine, go ahead and–"

"I hope you hang yourself with your H&M scarf, while jacking off listening to Mozart…" my little brother began, cutting me off.

"Excuse me?" I sputtered, hearing the lyrics of the song. My head was violently yanked back until my eyes were once again linked to the boy's behind me.

"That's how it goes. Now shush." Ike commenced singing and brushing my hair, running the cursed thing through my tangled, wild hair with even strokes.

"You're so gay and you don't even like boys… No you don't even li~ke…. penis!" Ike finished the song about three minutes later. He was barely halfway done with my hair, and I hoped he wouldn't sing the song again.

"No, but you do", I smirked. He yanked on my hair and I let out a small 'yelp'.

"Speaking of!" he reminded himself, chirping happily. I grimaced.

"Speaking of penis?"

"Kind of. Not really, more so on the object of liking penis."

"O…Kay?" I said, even though I didn't understand at all.

"Georgie sang me Lovesong yesterday", Ike giggled.

"You're such a gaymo… Wait, Lovesong is by The Cure, right? That's Robert Smith?" Ike took my head between his hands and nodded it, laughing.

"Yes, and if anyone's the gaymo, it's you. 'Ung, Stan, fu~ck!' ", he mimicked in a horrible version of my voice.

"I don't sound like that!" I said, blushing. "And I've never said that!"

"Not consciously, you haven't. What have you been dreaming about lately, Big Brother?" Ike finished the last stroke of brushing my hair. "All done!"

"Really? Huh. That didn't take very long…" I trailed off, thinking about Hemingway and gay people… "Ike, you have an auto tuned voice", I said, finally pulling words from my brain.

"Excuse me, what", he asked, no tone of question in his voice.

"You have an auto tuned voice. The way you sing sounds kind of fixed… It's not bad, at least you don't sound all nasally", I answered.

"OK then… You pull 'em down and there's really nothing there", he sang. I winced. Those lyrics, sheesh. "Nah, I guess I do…" he finally concluded. I nodded.

"What kind of music do you even listen to?" I finally asked.

"That one kind."

"Being? What, music about gay boys?"

"Nah. I only sang that song cause it fits your personality perfectly." He stuck his tongue out after that.

"That's it!" I said, launching myself at him. "You are going down."


	4. Chapter Three: Reading The News

"It says incest rates are up in Colorado by 18%", Ike read, flipping through the South Park News nonchalantly.

"Oh, really now?" I asked, holding back a scoff. The things in the news, Jesus.

"Yeah. I wonder if it's gonna reach South Park?" he questioned from his spot on the floor.

"Lord knows it's already hit the McCormick family", I sighed. Ike giggled at that.

"You think it'll affect us?" he asked, still nonchalant as ever. He turned to look at me and I glanced over the top of my book.

"Nah", we both said in unison, returning to our reading.

"You'd break me", Ike says after a while, a hint of mocked fear in his voice.

"Oh, like Georgie hasn't done that already?"

"I'm 11, Kyle. I don't think I'll be hopping into bed with someone two years older than me any time soon", he sighed, a slight twinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Good. I don't want my little bubbeleh to lose his V-Card for a while."

"Mom, please", Ike giggled. I groaned.

"Not this again? Just because I call you bubbe and show some concern for you doesn't make me Sheila!" I almost had a panic attack at realizing I called my mother by her first name. The only other time I did that, I got smacked with a fly swatter.

"Shush, mom'll hear. Then she'll have to swat your ass again", Ike said, erupting into giggles.

"It was the nose!" I whined. "Now come up here so I can swat you."

"I'll pass."

"No, you won't." I climbed to the end of the bed, grabbing Ike by surprise and pulling him into a standing position before laying my book square on his behind.

"Ow! Perv!" Ike screeched, still giggling. "Oh, shit, the incest has spread for you now! I knew I should have closed that god damned window!"

"Incest doesn't travel in the air, you little shit. And watch your mouth", I sighed, dropping my book and flopping onto my pillow.

"Fucking suck my fat one, cheap-ass-shit big brother!"

"Language!"

"Assramming cockbiting titlicking fuckfaggot", he replied calmly. I just smirked.


End file.
